Carry On
by Riel Sanet
Summary: Inspired by my-spirit-animal-is-the-impala's fic, Blue Cupcakes! Percy sees Dean in Hell/Tartarus. A year later he abandons the gods after he gets tired of playing their puppet. What will happen when he sees Dean in the real world? Not Dean/Harry! No pairings!
1. Chapter 1

**Firstly, I want to thank my-spirit-animal-is-the-impala for the inspiration (Go look at his/her stories!) and letting me use their idea.**

 **On to business: this will be AU. There will be no Annabeth (she never existed, AT ALL) because if there were, I would have to write romance, and I'm no good at writing romance. This said, I'm not writing romance, just so you know. Even if I do ship people (not saying who!;) ), I am no good at writing romance, sorry. There will be familial-ness, but again, NO ROMANCE!**

 **It will start while Dean is in hell and Percy is in Tartarus (in this AU he's there alone). Timelines are tricky so I'm just saying it's 2001. Percy is born in 1984, Dean in 1972, Sam in 1976.**

 **Percy: 17 years old  
Dean: 29 years old  
Sam: 25 years old**

 **Disclaimer: These are not mine. Obviously. If they were, I would be floating in a chocolate jacuzzi right now and eating marshmallow and syrup cookies, which would ruin this computer and thus destroy this story making it impossible for me to type this right now!**

* * *

Percy had seen people in the Fields of Punishment. He had paid no attention to them because, well, why should he? They were paying for their crimes, and he had no time to waste staring at their pain.

He did notice one though. This one was obviously fresh dead, he still had spirit, and he didn't look like he'd committed some heinous crime. In fact, he looked pretty honest, and actually seemed like a good guy.

Now, before you go shooting him down on account that he'd only ever _seen_ this guy, keep in mind that Percy was an excellent judge of character. He had a weirdly accurate intuition and could easily tell if someone was a good person or not by just a glance. He'd been able to tell who monsters were just by meeting their eyes, and had a little twinge in his gut whenever someone lied to him or was about to try to kill him (and it was handy too! He should've- no would've died hundreds of times before if it weren't for the feeling in his gut when he'd seen someone untrustworthy.) When he thought of this he remembered the man with the kind eyes and the knife, and the girl with the high pitched, whiny voice, and the dagger, and the ladies with one metal leg and too-sharp teeth and the little voice had warned him of every one. That feeling was actually what had brought his attention to the man, or rather, the lack of the feeling. He didn't feel any taint in his intentions, which, believe it or not, was incredibly rare among adults in the real world, much less monsters in Tartarus.

When he looked around in this world of pain and fire, he felt sick constantly. Every person (or monster in disguise, you never could tell) he looked at made him wince, but when he looked at the suffering man, he felt nothing. Well, curiosity, sure, but no twist of his stomach. Percy looked at him for a minute, before turning to slice of an empousa's head with Riptide. He left quietly after that, no more time to spare. He had to get to the Doors, to kill or put to sleep Gaea.

He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that if he let the fire of purpose and urgency in his heart go out, he would just want to rest and not have to worry about extinction.

But he couldn't do that. So he hurried, and he didn't think about what lay ahead.

* * *

Dean lay on the racks, refusing to scream. He twisted his head to the side to avoid looking at the demon carving up his bloody rib cage. He saw a kid. Why was there a kid in hell? He wasn't getting tortured, and sure wasn't a demon either. There was no way the kid could be in hell for real, anyway. He'd seen the look on the boy's face on some of the older hunters. The sort of world weariness mixed with a determination and will to survive so old they didn't know its purpose anymore, they just stuck to it. It was the look of a good man, a righteous man.

That look was only on the face of the war-torn. Why was it on the face of a child- no, a man? Why did the children have to suffer in this world? He hated God at that moment. The one who was supposed to love the world. No, that was wrong. He had hated God when he'd gone hunting at age 10 with his dad (who was more like his general) to find the creature - _that god made, that he must have made, because didn't God create all things?_ \- that killed his mother. He'd hated God all those nights Sammy had cried in the dark, pulling the covers over his head and trying to hide from the world and thinking Dean hadn't heard him. Dean had heard him. And now, where was he? Hell. Having a (quite blasphemous) heart to heart with himself. Sammy would be proud: He's finally "opening up" to himself. Joy.

Dean had closed his eyes during his inner monologue and when he opened them again, the man was gone. _Good_ , he thought, he should leave this miserable place. His eyes bled as the demon removed them slowly, with a rusty knife. He abandoned all thought to again focus on the pain, and only the pain. He was tired, but sleeping was impossible with a demon shoveling out your brain. He did not know if he was dead or alive. He wanted Sammy. He wanted the mother he had only known for four years. There wasn't any hate in him at that moment, just weariness and longing and sorrow, and he wanted to be free. To die or to live, it made no difference, as long as the pain was gone and he could sleep and, and, and he was home.

But that wouldn't happen for a long time.

Because angels aren't merciful.

And God is not kind.

Because they are more human than they would have us think.

* * *

A year later Percy had left camp. He knew it was reckless. His mom wouldn't have approved. But she wasn't there anymore. Hades had her soul and _it wasn't fair_. He had given his life over and over for the gods and they send monsters to kill his mother. Apparently getting rid of "human ties" might help him give in to their "suggestion" - _but it was never a suggestion, was it? No, it was a command_ \- of becoming immortal. She never stood a chance. Her only weapon was kindness and where does that get you with cold-hearted, murdering beasts? Nowhere but the Underworld. So she went to the Underworld.

And Percy wanted to die. But the gods had taken it upon themselves to grant him immortality, as their greatest soldier, to be used forever, whether he liked it or not. He'd tried to kill himself over and over and- and why couldn't they just stay _out of his life?_ so he left camp, I mean, what could kill him? He went traveling, killing monsters. He wanted revenge for his mother, and since he couldn't kill gods, monsters would have to do.

He'd gotten good at it. He'd learned how to hack them apart with Skia **(Greek for shade, sorry if google translate messed it up)** , the knife Nico had given him before he'd left.

He'd thrown Riptide back when they'd tried to "reason" with him ("We gave you the sword that saved your life so many times. _We_ were the ones that kept you alive." like he'd wanted to be kept alive) as if he needed Riptide, a symbol of their control over him.

He'd never known that he was better with a dagger than a sword, never been able to try it. But he could tell that the blade was made as if for his hands only. It was so easy to slice and stab and Percy cried because he knew how to kill and he'd never _wanted_ to hurt people but he'd had no choice and now he was _helping_ people when he killed and otherwise more would die and it was monsters he was killing so he couldn't just _stop_. But that didn't change that he was killing. So he told himself that he was being a baby and to stop hurting and to man up and _don't cry_ and so he didn't cry. His eyes were dry. His heart was screaming. And he kept on walking (and kept on killing and later he would look back and cry and be glad that he was crying because it hurt so much more when he didn't).

Percy also learned which he had to burn the bones of as well as carve up and other weird things that he cursed the gods for. I mean really, you slice it up, it should be dead, right? No. It turned out, there were other monsters other than the simple Greek ones. Greek monsters, you just sliced off their head and then they were gone (for at least a few years). Monsters from other religions, you had to salt and burn stuff. There was holy water and these things called Devil's Traps which could be useful against demons but also trap him because he wasn't all human (but he didn't curse his god's blood because it was so _useful_.)

He traveled across America killing. Revenge didn't make him feel better. He had nothing else to do, though. He could stop or go backwards. Just accelerate, like a snowball. It would've been funny if it weren't so true.

* * *

Dean was upset. Well, he was happy. Very much so (physical torture had been nothing, but being without Sammy _was everything_ ), and now that he had Sam back he was _so happy_. But he was upset too, mostly at the way Sammy was when he'd got to him.

 _**Flashback**_

Dean had found Sam. He was in a hotel room, on a hunt. Dean had knocked on the door.

"Sam, you there?" Dean had called in a rough voice when a minute had passed. Just as he was doing so, the door opened. Sam stood there, and he looked like a corpse. He had huge bags under his eyes and looked thin and gaunt. He looked tired, and like he'd been crying. He hadn't even looked this bad at Jessica's death. His eyes narrowed and an expression of hate twisted his face.

"Who are you? Why are you posing as my dead brother? Get out, demon! You think you could fool me?" He brought a gun up to Dean's head and Dean lunged forward and held him against the wall, wrenching the weapon out of his hands.

"I _am_ Dean! I don't know how, or why, but I woke up in a coffin, and the only thing I could think of was to find you!" Sam's head snapped up as he studied Dean. The face and voice were the same, but Sam knew how easily demons could replicate that. He glared at the obvious imposter.

"Believe me, Sammy," Dean pleaded in a softer voice. The use of the childhood nickname (and the fact that he wasn't already dead) made Sam pause.

"Tell me something only Dean would know."

Sam hurled the request at Dean, who didn't blink before replying, "You were four. Snuck out once when Dad was on a hunt. I had to go find you and lucky I brought a gun because you'd run into a werewolf. I killed it and Dad never knew we were gone. You cried the whole rest of the night."

Sam looked at Dean for a long minute and then pulled him into a tight hug. He started sobbing and Dean felt his shirt get wet. Then Dean started to cry as well.

Later he would curse at Bobby and want to kill the one who'd sunk Sam into such a depression before remembering it was himself (and he considered it until he recalled that it was his death that had hurt Sammy in the first place).

 _**Flashback End**_

Dean watched as Sam filled in hollow cheekbones and the skin stretched tight over his ribs filled back up again. He slept now. Well, at first he'd had nightmares, but Dean would sooth him and hold him close and soon, there were no more night terrors (but Dean would never forget the way his Sammy had screamed, the way he'd cried and how Dean had had to lay in the bed with him so he could even sleep and he thought he was going to be sick because _this was his fault_ ). But he was getting better. And really, Dean was all that he'd needed.

When Dean had died, Sam had shattered. But now Dean was gluing the pieces back together, one by one.

* * *

 **Okay, that was a bit depressing . . . and dark . . . but whatever! Trust me, they're is going to get better. I figure that once they meet, I can have a little Percy/Dean brotherly-ness! I'll try to update soon (ish?) but no promises!**

 **One more thing. No Ruby. Sam will have his powers, but Ruby isn't going to be a part of it. She's just, not going to exist. Also, while the apocalypse will probably happen, a lot of things won't be canon.**

 **Next chapter: one word: Castiel. Also, Percy and Dean and Co. may meet!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Firstly, I want to thank my-spirit-animal-is-the-impala for the inspiration (Go look at his/her stories!) and letting me use their idea.**

 **On to business: this will be AU. There will be no Annabeth (she never existed, AT ALL) because if there were, I would have to write romance, and I'm no good at writing romance. This said, I'm not writing romance, just so you know. Even if I do ship people (not saying who!;) ), I am no good at writing romance, sorry. There will be familial-ness, but again, NO ROMANCE!**

 **Just to be clear, this is not cannon. Just so you know!**

 **It will start while Dean is in hell and Percy is in Tartarus (in this AU he's there alone). Timelines are tricky so I'm just saying it's 2001. Percy is born in 1984, Dean in 1972, Sam in 1976.**

 **Percy: 17 years old  
Dean: 29 years old  
Sam: 25 years old**

 **Disclaimer: These are not mine. Obviously. If they were, i would be to busy flying around in my jet-pack-powered, light-blue, hovercraft Dolorian (with cup holders ;D) to care about writing fanfiction.**

* * *

 _Dean's POV_

Dean watched as a man appeared in the summoning circle. He had a trench coat on, and an ordinary face complete with nondescript brown hair. The man stared at them all, no expression showing on an utterly blank face. He was likely a monster. Who else would show up in a summoning circle. The man's eyes were a light blue, and were trained straight on Dean. Dean felt a shiver go down his spine at those eyes. He couldn't see anything in them (and he'd always sort of seen the signs of feelings, or thinking in another's eyes, so _why not this man-_ no thing- because it couldn't be human with those eyes _)_. He would never say it aloud, but they scared him. Then the monster turned his gaze to Sam, and all of Dean's protective-older-brother instincts _flared_. He lunged forward and stabbed the guy right in the gut with his dagger. The monster half coughed but still didn't show any emotion.

Blood dripped down the thing's abdomen as he finally spoke, "My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord. God has work for you, Dean."

Dean stared, horrified, as Castiel pulled the knife out of his stomach and dropped it to the ground, before healing before his very eyes. The others had been stunned into silence as well, and a surge of disbelief and anger swept over Dean, pulling him relentlessly into thoughts he didn't want to think.

He knew there was no way what Castiel was saying was true. If there was a God, where was he when Dean's mother was killed, and sent his father into a craze of vengeance that had ruined their childhood, and their lives, or when Sammy had told him, at age five, (when Dean was nine and trying to keep him innocent of the horrors of the world, and had hidden Sam's Christmas present, from Santa, it said on the tag, in his bag) so matter-of-factly, that Santa Claus didn't exist, because magic was evil (and Dean's heart broke and if there was a God, where was he then?).

Dean couldn't believe in religion, because if there was an all-powerful being, who was good and kind and loving, why was the world such a mess? Why was his _life_ such a mess? Why?

There was only one possible answer. This "angel" was lying. There was no god. There couldn't be.

* * *

Castiel had disappeared directly after he spoke, and now they were off to Boise, Idaho on a hunt. Dean (tried to) put the "angel" out of his mind and got ready for what looked to be a demon. But he couldn't completely forget those ominous words Castiel had spoken, "God has work for you, Dean." Well, Castiel had to be a monster, and maybe his pack/coven/whatever wanted to turn Dean to the dark side and get him to work for them or something? He really had no idea, but he knew he wasn't going to fall for it (whatever it was...).

* * *

 _Castiel's POV_

Castiel pushed a surge of pity and regret back. They were weak emotions, and angels didn't feel emotion. However, he knew Dean was going to have a hard time of it, but he still delivered the message Michael told him to give. Well, of course he did, Michael was always right. Michael was God's Chosen ruler of heaven. This he knew, but it still felt wrong, and he didn't know why. It shouldn't feel wrong. He shouldn't feel, at all, period. What was wrong with him? Was he dysfunctional? Yet... was is right to give such a burden to two the young brothers?

Castiel cut himself off from such blasphemous thoughts abruptly. What was he thinking, he asked himself harshly. He was being an idiot. The humans had to get involved in this mess, God commanded it of them, and who was he to question that! The treacherous voice in the back of his head whispered, "And who is God to tell them to do this?"

Castiel shoved those thoughts away violently, trying to deny what he inwardly knew was true. He did the only thing he knew how to do, he shoved his emotions deep, deep inside him, and went on as if everything was alright, ignoring the sound of his already broken heart shattering.

* * *

 _Percy's POV_

Percy was in the city of Boise, Idaho. He was tracking down some monster. He wasn't quite sure what yet. A man had been killed, found mauled and bloody (and Percy could feel memories of how he found his parents, gory and slashed, rising up to his skull through tears in his throat). Ten years before, the man, George Brent, mysteriously become a spectacular, amazing artist. His fame was the reason this death was such a topic for the press. Also, the mystery shrouding his death. He'd lived alone, excepting hired help that only worked during the day. His house was a fortress, with the newest and best security, laser beams, alarms, alligator death pits (just kidding on that last one).

He'd been killed in the middle of the night by what appeared, by the claw marks, to be some huge predator, like a bear, however, experts were saying the way his body was attacked pointed to a pack of unbelievably huge dogs. The video cameras which would've shed light on the situation had been turned off as if by a ghost at 11:59 pm and had been reawakened at 12:01, one minute past midnight.

* * *

Percy could've used the mist pretty easily to get people to think he was some sort of detective and let him into the house. But he didn't, because it reminded him of how many times the gods had manipulated him and how really, it was all the same in the end. And he knew that if he let himself do this -to stop deaths!- then soon it would be, "I just have to sacrifice one boy -to save the world!" And Percy wouldn't let himself be a god like that. So, he made a fake ID, FBI style.

He went to the house, which was surrounded by yellow tape and police officers milling around, and walked up to one lady who seemed to be in charge.

Percy lied glibly, "Hello, officer. My name is Nathan Morris, FBI." At this point he held up the totally fake, yet hopefully believable ID. "I need to see the scene of the crime."

She glanced at the ID before replying, "Yes sir, right this way." Percy could feel a telltale twinge in his gut, and he knew she was trying to suck up to him to get a promotion, or a good word.

He sneered under his breath and when she turned back to look at him with a, "Sir, are you alright?" He plastered on a fake smile and kept walking up the huge driveway and through gold encrusted doors. She led him through a gaudy maze of marble and crystal chandeliers.

As they got closer to the site of death, Percy could feel an aura that sort of reminded him of the Underworld. There were two other guys standing around the bloody, white tiles that were, he guessed, the place where Brent had been mauled. He swallowed, and tried to forget how he found his parents - _bloody walls and carpet, gore and skin splattered everywhere, and the bodies... his mother had had her eyes gouged out and her limbs cut off and Paul had been clawed and bitten and tossed around until he bled out and Percy had found them and this was the same and he couldn't take it -_ and he shoved it away ruthlessly, knowing he couldn't afford to start crying in the middle of his investigation. Later, he would scream and sob as much as he needed to in the hotel room.

One was tall with long-ish hair and the other was short with short hair. Their backs were both turned to him.

"Sir, here are your FBI colleagues. Good luck in finding the murderer!"

Then she left, leaving Percy and two Winchester brothers, who were all thinking along the lines of, "Oh sh*t! The real FBI!"

The taller one turned towards Percy first, holding out an ID with the name Drew Warren on it. He mumbled, "Hello agent, I'm Drew Warren."

Percy was scared out of his mind, but managed to pull out his own ID, and murmured, "Hello Agent Warren, I'm Nathan Morris."

Then the second agent turned around, ID in his hand, and Percy recognized him. But that wasn't what made Percy jump- it was the fact that the place he'd seen the man in was the Fields of Punishment, Tartarus.

* * *

 _Dean's POV_

Dean was examining the blood traces, trying to find out how big of a pack of hellhounds had been let loose on Brent, when he heard two sets of footsteps. He kept staring at the blood, even as they got closer.

Then he heard the words that he had nightmares about, but had never heard in person.

"Sir, here are your FBI colleagues. Good luck in finding the murderer!"

Dean's only thought was, "Sh*tting fudge! We're busted!"

Sam turned around and fake introduced himself as Dean readied the gun in his pocket, preparing to disable this guy. To his complete surprise, the agent bought it! Nathan Morris introduced himself and Dean slipped the gun back in his jacket before grabbing his ID and turning around and showing it to the man.

Then he saw Nathan Morris's face. He knew that face, but he couldn't remember where from. Nathan Morris jumped, and shock spread across his face. Morris apparently knew him too. Then it hit him. This was the man he'd seen in hell.

* * *

 **Firstly,** **I want to thank all my favoriters, followers, readers, and reviewers! You guys are awesome!**

 **I really want to address my reviews (that asked about stuff), which I will try to do every time!**

 **Guest said:  
** **The show had thousands of pagans in it and hundreds of pantheons. Hell should be a raging inferno compared to Tartarus. The Angels should be able to take on any threat that Percy went through and not break a sweat.**

 **Yes, I get that (and thanks for pointing it out so I could address it :) ), but I was sort of thinking along the lines of what enigmatic pencil reviewed- I want them to be equal in power so it's a bit more interesting. Sorry if I don't follow the Supernatural universe, but I feel like also, Hell and Tartarus are basically the same thing, but through different lenses. I remember right the -I think- first PJO book, when Percy and Co. are in the Underworld and some dude going to the fields of Punishment calls it Hell because he's Christian and that's what he believed and Grover or someone said something like, "It's the Underworld, but other people see it as other things, like a super-powerful Mist or something..." Long story short, in this fic they're the same thing just seen differently by people of different beliefs. **

**Other reviewers, thanks for the encouragement!**

 **Okay, so Castiel is really messed up right now. He both represses his emotions, believing them "weak," and thinks Michael (and all his other superiors) are always right, doing God's bidding, and infallible. He will get better, promise.**

 **Next chapter: More on Castiel, and continuing the cliff hanger!**

 **OK, sorry I feel like this chapter is really short (like half of it is in bold) but I couldn't take it any further (and ruin my cliffhanger) so I'll try to make my next one longer! Thx guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Firstly, I want to thank my-spirit-animal-is-the-impala for the inspiration (Go look at his/her stories!) and letting me use their idea.**

 **On to business: this will be AU. There will be no Annabeth (she never existed, AT ALL) because if there were, I would have to write romance, and I'm no good at writing romance. This said, I'm not writing romance, just so you know. Even if I do ship people (not saying who!;) ), I am no good at writing romance, sorry. There will be familial-ness, but again, NO ROMANCE!**

 **Just to be clear, this is not canon. Just so you know!**

 **It will start while Dean is in hell and Percy is in Tartarus (in this AU he's there alone). Timelines are tricky so I'm just saying it's 2001. Percy is born in 1984, Dean in 1972, Sam in 1976.**

 **Percy: 17 years old  
Dean: 29 years old  
Sam: 25 years old**

 **Disclaimer: These are not mine. Obviously. If they were, I would currently be too busy being a famous author/TV show writer to be bothered with fanfiction!**

 _From the Previous Chapter:_

 _Percy's POV_

Then the second agent turned around, ID in his hand, and Percy recognized him. But that wasn't what made Percy jump- it was the fact that the place he'd seen the man in was the Fields of Punishment, Tartarus.

 _Dean's POV_

Then he saw Nathan Morris's face. He knew that face, but he couldn't remember where from. Nathan Morris jumped, and shock spread across his face. Morris apparently knew him too. Then it hit him. This was the man he'd seen in hell.

 _Chapter 3_

 _Percy's POV_

The first thing that went through Percy's mind was, 'Well crap.' The second was, 'It could be worse- at least this was the honest looking one.'

Percy knew, logically, that a soul serving time in the fields of punishment could not leave, ever. This shouldn't have been possible, but somehow, the man was right in front of him. He considered the idea of an identical twin for a split second, but the recognition dawning in the guy's eyes almost immediately disproved this theory. He guessed it _was_ true after all. But it couldn't be... IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE! Actually, scrap that, he should have expected this: after all, this was _Percy Jackson's life_. Something utterly impossible happened practically on a daily basis for him, why should this be any different.

He half heard Tartarus guy mumble something that sorta sounded like, "Christ," but he couldn't be sure.

And then he realized that Tartarus guy was still staring at him and Tall Moose guy- Percy thought his name was Warren?- was looking at both of them weird, like he expected one of them to say something. Percy silently panicked and thought, 'What now!?'

Percy knew that he had two options. He could address the whole Tartarus thing or he could completely ignore it. He had always been a rather blunt guy, so addressing the issue really appealed to him more, but what if the guy had amnesia or forgot Tartarus or something (I mean how was Percy supposed to know what affect escaping Tartarus had on the brain!) and just thought Percy was some crazy weirdo if Percy asked him about it!

Percy decided he should ask Tartarus guy straight out how he got here. Percy knew he was still good: he couldn't feel any twinge in his gut when he looked at him. Tall Moose guy also passed the notorious gut test. _And_ , Percy had seen recognition on the Tartarus man's face when he'd looked at Percy. That sealed it. Percy was working himself up to ask the guy when something unexpected happened.

Then Tall Moose guy started to talk.

 _Dean's POV_

Dean stared unashamedly. This man had been standing there. In the middle of Hell. And now he was here. In front of Dean. Dean blinked a few times. Hell guy was still there (and his name was _so_ not Nathan Morris).

Dean knew he wasn't that good at math, but he was pretty sure that Hell plus a man did _not_ equal non demon man on earth. Wait a second. What if the man was a demon. Yeah! That would explain all this!

Dean muttered, "Christo," and looked into the man's oddly sea green eyes, waiting for them to cloud over into black. They didn't. Dean kept waiting. Sea green stayed sea green. The world weariness Dean had remembered was still carved into the man's fresh, young face, but much more, while less so than before. Well, he looked as though he had seen more (deaths? evil? Dean couldn't tell, but he knew it was something this man-child should not have seen so young) and experienced far more, but he looked much less stressed. He was not about to let the world crack if he stumbled.

When Dean had seen him before it had seemed as if he had thought any mistake could lead to countless deaths, or great destruction, or something- of course, the guy may now be more relaxed because he was no longer stuck in a fiery pit of death and agony, surrounded by creatures wanting nothing less than to torture and slaughter him... you never know.

Dean saw a hint of nervousness in the man's eyes. This could possibly have been from the fact that they had been standing there for almost two minutes now sizing each other up and stuck in shock. Dean flicked his eyes to Sam and saw him standing there watching the both of them with a confused face.

Then Sam spoke.

 _Sam's POV_

Who was this man? He had said he was an FBI agent, but then how would Dean know him? Had they run into each other at a past hunt?

The dark haired, green eyes man had walked up and when Dean had seen him, he had frozen. What was so special about the man? They been standing there for over a minute now and Sam wanted to know what was going on. He didn't speak though. If it was the demon, Dean would kill him.

As if reading his thoughts, Dean murmured, "Christo," in a low voice. There was no reaction, and the man's eyes were still the same. Not a demon then.

There had been an odd emotion on Dean's face, and Sam suddenly knew it. Dean was feeling sorrow, sorrow for someone that was not him. Dean thought he didn't see the guilty looks Dean sent him when he thought Sam wasn't looking. Sam saw them. They cemented his own self-loathing. If it hadn't been for Sam, Dean would never had made a demon deal. Sam had been so gullible and stupid to have been killed by a man he thought he could trust. He had sent Dean to hell and gotten him tortured and put him through so much pain. How could Dean ever have forgiven him? Sam didn't know how it was possible!

And now Dean's guilt. Sam was hurting Dean in yet another way by making him unnecessarily guilty! Yes, Sam knew he had probably seemed absolutely pathetic to Dean with his nightmares and gauntness and luggage under his eyes, but Sam also knew he deserved all that he got. Sam had killed and condemned his own brother.

Dean was feeling sorrow for this man. He couldn't have been a real enemy, then. Dean didn't feel sorrow easily. Sam remembered when they had come across a beaten, dying, kitten once in their exploration of a new town, when they had been young. Dean had looked at that kitten with sorrow, back then. He hadn't touched it or soothed it, but he had looked sad for it, and Sam had been sad too, but it wasn't the same, because Sam mourned for every wilted flower or toddler with a scraped knee.

This man had to have been through a lot, for Dean to look at him with sympathy in his eyes. Dean had only become more guarded as they grew up and had looked at less and less things with sorrow. But he looked at this man like that. Sam looked at him closer, saw the scars and the life-tired look on his face, and wondered, if perhaps, they had met in Hell, because he had seen Dean look that life-tired only when he had emerged from the fiery hole. But it wasn't possible that Dean could've met him in hell, Sam chided himself, because then the man wouldn't be up here. Sam looked up at them then, still staring.

It had been thirty more seconds.

No one had moved.

So Sam said in a tight voice, cutting like a razor through the brittle silence, "Who are you? How do you two know each other?"

 _Percy's POV_

Percy stumbled over blurted explanations, "Well, I, we, uh, We never really met, but once we, uh, sorta saw each other when I was passing him. I'm, well, you- not Tall Moose guy, the other one, the one I know- you might have guessed I'm not Nathan Morris, but uh, my real name is Percy. Percy Jackson."

Tartarus guy snickered at his partner(? colleague? brother?)'s description.

Moose man started off, "When exactly did you two meet? And where, anyways? And just so you know, my name is _not_ Tall Moose guy. It's Sam, Winchester. This is my brother Dean."

Dean. Percy was glad to finally be able to put a name to the face instead of just calling him Tartarus man. And Sam. As amusing as it was to address somebody as Tall Moose guy in your head, it really was useful to have a real name to call him.

"We met about four months ago." Percy said carefully. He had no idea if Sam knew. He hadn't hesitated, though, to answer. Percy had counted every day after escaping from that hell hole (he had said about four months; it had actually been four months and seven days).

Dean looked at Percy and gave a small, sharp nod. Percy's shoulders slumped in relief: it would be _so_ much easier to explain if he didn't have to skirt around Tartarus.

Sam froze. "So, you two, you know each other from, from _Hell_." And on the last word, Sam's voice dropped into a cracked whisper. Now Percy had been through two wars, and had seen countless comrades dead. He was no stranger to self-blame- had even felt it himself. Sam was full of it. Percy noted that mentally, then focused on the statement.

Percy started to nod, but stopped, frowning. "Hell? Is that what you saw it as?"

 _Dean's POV_

Dean was completely puzzled. What the hell could Hell be mistaken for? When Percy Jackson saw pain and fire and people getting their intestines carved out by creepy monsters, did he think he was in a coffee shop or something?

"It wasn't Hell, it was Tartarus." Percy's next statement had Dean looking at Sam in confusion.

"The Greek Hell," Sam answered to the questioning look Dean sent him. Sam started to elaborate, "It is much like Hell only-."

And that's when she came back.

The officer who had brought Percy to Sam and Dean walked up with a few underlings, and asked in an oddly cheerful voice (considering they were investigating a murder scene), "So, have you boys found anything so far?"

Dean replied easily, "Oh a few things- nothing really important yet." He then smiled his trademark charming grin and continued, "I suppose it's time for a lunch break?"

"Yeah, that's why they sent me up here. You all are free to go, for an hour, that is."

They all grinned and walked down, Dean making conversation with the officer the whole way and Sam and Percy trailing behind in awkward silence.

 _Castiel's POV_

Dean and Sam had met Perseus Jackson, a demigod. This was entirely unexpected. Perseus had survived Tartarus, and that was likely where he had seen Dean. Angels didn't keep as close tabs on pagan worshipers, but Perseus Jackson was a name known by both Heaven and Hell for his heroic deeds and strange need to be mortal. After abandoning his pantheon, Perseus had become his own version of a hunter, and probably wouldn't harm Dean or Sam.

However, even though Perseus meant no harm, heaven would likely want to know of this meeting.

But...

Castiel did not want to alert them. In every situation he thought of, Perseus would only be an added support to Dean and Sam's quest, and never a hindrance. Perseus Jackson's eternal loyalty to his friends was well known, and, if Dean and Sam won any of that famed loyalty, they would surely be at least twice more likely to survive this mess that was eagerly bearing down upon them. Heaven might not leave them be. Heaven might send somebody to _take care of_ Perseus Jackson. Heaven did not like surprises, twists in their plan.

Castiel pushed down the tiny feeling of thrill and defiance he felt when he knew he was decided in his plan. To lie to an archangel. Had it ever been done before? And the feelings. They were getting more and more common. Castiel could rarely do anything without feeling something for the action anymore. He flew, he felt exhilaration. He rested, he felt contentment. He lied, he felt defiance.

He thought it was becoming chronic. And maybe Castiel felt a little bit better now that he had resigned himself to emotion. He knew that eventually when the garrison leader found out, he would be in trouble. Big trouble. Brainwashing and torturing trouble. It had been done to him before you know. When Castiel had been little more than a fledgling, he had thought that maybe humans weren't so bad after all. That had been his first breaking. There had been only one more since then. And now he was set for another one. Why did he have to be so stupidly sentimental? Oh and there he was, at it again with desperation and despair, two of the strongest emotions.

Castiel flew down to Earth, and hid in an old cave he had come to twice before, and he cried.

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **Firstly,** **I want to thank all my favoriters, followers, readers, and reviewers! You guys are awesome!**

 **About our favorite angel: Cas is resigned now. He can't supress his emotions and he has accepted that, but he also thinks he's going to get found out and brainwashed/tortured again very soon, which he is terrified of. You really have to feel bad for the poor guy.**

 **Moose facts: Sam is not only traumatized by Dean's death, but also blames himself for it. Dean realizes some of it but Percy can tell of the self-loathings full extent and will help with that stuff later.**

 **And for the demigod: Percy is actually pretty ok, apart from grieving for his mom and hate for the greek gods. So the greek gods will probably be more involved later so we can resolve the hate thing (either by killing the greek gods or something or having their powers removed or something like that...).**

 **Lastly, for the pie lover: Dean knows something is off with Sam, but he doesn't know what. He also feels intense guilt, but doesn't handle emotions that well so will, for now, mostly ignore it.**

 **Sam, Dean, and Percy have met and know some stuff now! Next chapter I plan to have them talk more in some cafe, or work on the hunt more, or both! I know I was going to have all of them meet up in this chapter, but I couldn't manage it- sorry! As I promised, this is a longer chapter!**

 **Hoping to write more soon,  
Riel Sanet**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey readers, sorry it's been so long... also I kind of hate my old writing, but eh whatever I'll write you another chapter:). Thx for all the nice reviews guys! ALSO: uh sry for spn mistakes bc see I never actually watched supernatural I just got into the fandom by reading a bunch of spn fanfiction...**

* * *

 _Sam's POV_

Sam watched Percy carefully from the side of his eye. The guy was totally focused on Dean (who was chatting it up with the officer). Percy didn't look to be more than 20 at the very most - or maybe even as young as 18 He seemed far too young to be involved in a career investigating murder. He looked like he should be in college or even high school. He was also too young to have been in Hell and then escaped. Sam frowned - he hadn't even known it was _possible_ to leave Hell if you weren't a demon or didn't have divine assistance.

Maybe that was it? Percy could've been helped by an angel, like Dean was. But if that was the case, he'd know Hell as Hell, not Tartarus. He did say Tartarus didn't he... so he had to be a Greek pagan god worshipper. Could pagan gods get people out of Hell?

As Sam was pondering the mysterious circumstances behind their newest companion, he hadn't even noticed as the group had walked all the way to a nearby cafe. The police officer excused herself to attend another errand and the three were left alone at the restaurant. They sat down with a few sandwiches after ordering and Sam decided to indulge his curiosity.

"So, you're pagan, right?" Sam questioned Percy.

"Pagan? If you mean I know about the Greek gods and goddesses, then yeah, sure."

"Wait, you can be both pagan and a hunter? Don't pagan gods, like, kill people to get power?" Dean jumped into the conversation.

"I don't know what kind of pagan gods you're talking about, but that's not exactly the Greek ones. I mean Greek gods are cruel, petty assholes, but I'm pretty sure they're more interested in making babies than making virgin sacrifices or whatever you think "pagan" gods do. Also, what's a "hunter," because I feel like what I think it means is not what you're talking about..." Percy looked pretty confused.

"Hunters are, you know, the people that kill the monsters before they can kill us first. Aren't you one? I mean if you're not, I'd be pretty interested to know what you're doing pretending to be FBI at a suspicious crime scene." Dean grinned, amused.

"Making babies? Like with other gods? Still? Wouldn't there be new myths occurring about the offspring if they were suddenly coming into existence?" Sam asked intently at the same time.

"Oh I mean that's what I've been doing, I just never heard the term "hunter" before, or met anyone that killed monsters but didn't know about the Greek gods. And no, Sam, not with other gods - with mortals. That's how demigods are made, you know." Percy had a slightly patronizing tone, like he was explaining something obvious to a small child. Sam ground his teeth before getting distracted by his need for answers.

"Demigods? What? Uh since when?" Sam had never met one in his entire hunting career.

"Since forever. We've stayed hidden from mortals though, you know."

""We?!"" Sam said urgently. Dean watched them, looking mildly amused by Percy's casual answers in the face of Sam's intensity.

"Yeah, I'm a demigod. But it doesn't mean anything to the gods. All it got me was my mom's death, a childhood without a dad, and being constantly hunted by monsters." Percy explained bitterly. "They send their kids out to fight their battles, and don't give a fuck how many die in the process."

Sam backed off for a minute, sending how emotional the topic was for Percy.

He continued in a softer voice, "How come I've never met any of you, if I've been hunting for nearly my whole life?"

"We normally only go after Greek monsters, and that's only by accident most times. It's common for most demigods to die as kids because monsters are drawn to us, see, and once you're old enough, most go to a special camp that mortals can't get to. Demigods that spend schoolyears outside of the camp don't really go looking for monsters, like I'm getting the feeling that you hunters do."

Sam wanted to ask why Percy was the exception, but he knew it was likely not a pretty story (Sam didn't know a single hunter who'd gotten into the job purely because of altruism. They all had one thing in common in their pasts - death). Instead he looked down and the table drifted into an uneasy silence.

* * *

 _Percy's POV_

As they sat at the table after Sam's interrogation, Percy tried to keep his mind off the memories Sam threatened to bring up. He searched desperately for another topic of conversation. 'Oh yeah! The case!' he realized.

"So, do you guys have any idea what monster killed Brent?" He asked quickly. He noticed Dean wince and Sam shot a glance at his brother.

"Yeah, we've... encountered this situation before." Dean said slowly. "It's a classic demon deal," he continued. Noting Percy's confused face, he explained further:

"Somebody makes a deal with the demon for some miraculous thing-"

"In this case, looks like fame," Sam interjected.

"-and 10 years later is killed by hellhounds and, well, taken to Hell to be tortured forever." Dean finished, looking down at the table.

Percy immediately looked at Dean, who seemed to be fighting off a grimace. Percy knew that just from the moment in Tartarus that he'd witnessed, most people would be mentally scarred forever, and he also knew that Dean had experienced hours, maybe even weeks or more of that agony. If Percy had gone through that, he knew he'd be a gibbering mess right then, not calmly sitting there as others spoke about the same horrific trauma he'd been through, and going after other monsters who would love nothing more than to repeat his experiences. Sam even looked worse than Dean. Percy started as he realized the impact his brother's death must have had on the man.

Percy looked down, not wanting to stare for too long at Sam and Dean, who were carefully examining the floor and ceiling, respectively.

"So what should we do about it?" Percy asked, wanting to move the conversation along.

"Honestly there's not much we really can do. The hellhounds go straight back to Hell after killing one person and crossroads demons only come around when they're summoned. The reason we came out here was to make sure no human is blamed, and because there wasn't much else that needed hunting at the moment." Dean explained.

"So what, we're here basically for nothing?" Percy was stunned.

"No, no, this is definitely still important! If we don't make sure this is ruled to be an accident or wild animal attack, some innocent person could be blamed and maybe even executed." Sam added.

Percy supposed this made sense, but he still wondered why they wouldn't just go after some other monster instead? 'Eh, whatever,' he supposed. 'I guess it's their business.'

All of a sudden Sam looked curious.

"So how come you were in Hell," he asked. Immediately afterwards he winced, pained and... guilty? Was Percy seeing this right? What exactly were the circumstances surrounding Dean's death?

"Oh, I fell in there by accident - had to find my way out." Percy said, still focused on Sam's expressions.

"You... fell in... by accident...?" Dean stated slowly, voice ripe with disbelief. "And you... found your own way out!? How is that even possible? Any of it?"

"Ah, you know, just the normal misadventures of a demigod, am I right?" Percy laughed a bit. While other wounds still bit into him, his time in Tartarus seemed far away enough he could joke about it easily.

He elaborated: "There were some special circumstances that caused an opening to Tartarus to open up, which me and my girlfriend fell through by accident. And yeah, it's possible to get out of Tartarus, just _really_ hard. And I don't know if Hell's the same, even though, you know, they're technically the same place."

Dean shook his head, eyes wide, "Just... how..."

Percy smirked. "Some of us are just talented like that."

Sam had been silent for a few minutes, and Percy looked over at him. He looked like he was trying to hold off tears. his face was mostly blank but his eyes looked suspiciously watery. Percy had the sudden urge to hug him and keep him safe. Dean followed Percy's gaze and then abruptly changed the subject to ask about varieties of Greek monsters.

* * *

 _Castiel's POV_

Castiel flew to Earth in a split-second flutter of grace. He knew Dean hadn't truly meant to call on him when he began thinking about him, but Castiel felt the odd desire to be around the hunters. He wanted to ease the distress his first meeting with them had caused. He appeared in an alleyway just outside the restaurant Dean, Samuel, and Perseus were at, and confidently strode around the corner and in the door. Castiel pulled out the last chair at the table and sat in it, keeping his eyes on the three in front of him the whole time.

Perseus grabbed a knife while Samuel and Dean each reached for a gun. They kept them under the table though, looking briefly at the cashier who stood not 10 feet away. While Sam and Dean's facial features varied more in their movements, Perseus kept his expression closer to human baseline (as Castiel had his own face). Castiel remained silent as the group seemed to wait for something as they stared at him.

Eventually Perseus blurted out, "Who _the hell_ are you? Another hunter?"

Castiel responded, "I am an angel of the Lord."

There was more silence as the group kept watching him.

"Angels _exist_? Next thing I know you'll be telling me the Christian God is out there too." Perseus replied in an incredulous tone.

"They do, and He is." Castiel said.

Another quiet moment passed before Perseus spoke again, "What, that's all you're going to say? That's it?"

Then Dean spoke, "We don't know what he actually is, but he told _us_ he's an angel too. He claimed he raised me from Hell."

Castiel remained silent. He didn't really know what else the group wanted from him. He'd answered their queries honestly and succinctly. He then remembered his purpose for coming to the cafe.

"Dean, Samuel, I will aid you in your upcoming trials."

"What trials? What's going to happen?" Sam questioned wildly. Castiel began to regret coming to converse with the two brothers. He seemed to be causing even more emotional distress now.

"The Apocalypse will occur soon. You will be heavily involved." Castiel knew he would get in trouble for revealing that much, and he still wanted to say more, but he restrained himself.

"Like fire and floods? That sort of thing?" Dean asked. Percy sat very still, just observing the interactions.

"Somewhat." Castiel prayed no angel was watching them at the moment. He wanted to leave, to escape ( _'there was nowhere they couldn't find him,'_ his mind whimpered) and at the same time he wanted to tell them everything, give them all the information he was in possession of. He was terrified and trying to escape the emotion only made it double its weight on him.

"Unless you have more questions I am able to answer, I will leave now." Castiel announced.

"Uh yeah we have questions, man." Dean drawled. Castiel lowered his wings from where he had lifted them as he'd prepared for flight.

"Like first of all, how come you know the Apocalypse is set to happen but you can't do anything about it? And why and how would we be involved in it?" Samuel asked.

"The Apocalypse is... planned _by_ the heavenly host. I cannot tell you your individual roles at this moment, but they will be critical." Castiel flew away at this moment, not wanting to give away more that he might be punished for. He didn't see the stricken faces he left behind.

* * *

 **Note: Yes, I know Cas switched from using Sam to using Samuel in this ch. It doesn't mean anything, I just thought Samuel fit more with the whole Perseus not Percy thing. I'll prob go back and fix that on the other chapters.**


End file.
